


Day Two: Identity/Memory

by mettaverse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, sad kuro is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mettaverse/pseuds/mettaverse
Summary: “What is your purpose, Champion?” She does not speak it but everything screams, demands an answer. The walls pulse, and the arena of his mind roars with anticipation, with the yearning of blood blood blood more blood.He opens his mouth. “To kill the Paladins of Voltron.”She grins and the world bleeds gold.





	Day Two: Identity/Memory

**Author's Note:**

> i am. SO LATE. HOLY SHIT. I AM SO SORRY

_His hands shake because they aren't on his, aren’t on something blue and warm and glowing- instead, they clutch a sword, a macabre replacement of his blood lust._

“ _What is your purpose?” The Witch hisses. Her teeth are bared and eyes sharp as the weapon in his hand- they could kill if she wished it. She could do anything._

“ _I don’t remember.” It's a lie. He remembers everything. Some nights when he falls asleep the bed melts into gravel, the pillows rocks against his head. When he breathes, the sharp smell of iron swarms to him like a lost lover and he greets it as such. Holds it to his chest, inhales deep, and remembers how to kill without shame. When he wakes up panting, sweat rolling down his back, Lance asks what his nightmare was. The answer was always the same. “I don't remember.”_

_Her lips turn from snarl to smile and somehow that's worse. Like watching a wolf grin before taking the last breath from its victim's lungs. Somehow she makes everything worse. “Then I will make you remember, Champion.”_

His hands wrap around a throat and it feels _good,_ feels _right._ His hands belong here, around smooth skin, pressing against a fluttering pulse.

“Kuro,” says a voice fluttering beneath him. “Kuro.”

_He refuses to scream in front of her. He bites his tongue, feels his canines rip into the soft muscle and ignores the blood bubbling from his lips._

“ _What is your purpose, Champion?”_

_If he ever had a mother, it would be this. Not Hagar, not her vicious smile and unbending eyes of gold. But the blood pooling in his mouth, the daggers pressed against his skin and the way his stomach screams for food. If he had a mother it would be this pain, this anger, the way his muscles strain against chains not for escape but for blood._

_A shot of electricity sends his body into spasms and suddenly there’s cold, cold fingers pressed against his temples, and it's worse than the electricity, worse than the daggers worse than the starvation. It snakes into his mind, gnaws at the frozen bits of Champion, of snarls in the dark. It presses against his teeth and awakens the feeling of flesh lodged in his snarl, whispers, “This is nourishment” and he realises he is not hungry for food._

“ _What is your purpose, Champion?” She does not speak it but everything screams, demands an answer. The walls pulse, and the arena of his mind roars with anticipation, with the yearning of blood blood blood more blood._

_He opens his mouth. “To kill the Paladins of Voltron.”_

_She grins and the world bleeds gold._

“Kuro.”

The voice is strained, breaking. When he opens his eyes the world is no longer gold but dimmed, a soft grey enveloping- where is he?

He looks down and sees blue staring up at him. There's no anger, no fear like the others had. With the ones in the arena, there was always terror brimming in their entire beings. But there is none of that here. Something tender, something warm that wipes the gold away. But that can't be right. The world was born gold, just as he was. And it will die gold, just as he will.

Hands reach up to touch him tentatively as if he is something precious. “Kuro,” he says again. He's smiling, fingertips brushing his cheekbones, his chin, the tip of his nose and underside of his eyes.

Kuro realises the grip on this man's throat isn't killing, isn't even bruising anymore. His hands sit there, against this smooth skin. When was the last time he touched without the intent to kill? “Why can't I kill you?” His voice is shaking. _Weak weak weak._

The man only smiles. His hands cup Kuro's face. “Do you remember where you are?” he asks.

The arena is the only logical answer. He should look away, look at the room he's suddenly in, survey his surroundings to assess the danger. But he can't. He can only stare into these eyes of blue, into the man who smiles like he is the most beautiful thing in this miserable galaxy. “What have you done to me?” he whispers. He doesn't realise he's crying until the droplets splash on the man's face.

The man- this man- _who is this man?-_ shrugs and gives a breathless laugh. “Found you after the Witch stole you away. Do you remember that, Kuro? That we found you?”

He doesn't care but he wants to hear more of Lance's voice. The hands wipe away Kuro's tears, his smile never leaving, never faltering as if the hands of a villain aren't wrapped around his throat. “Who are you?”

“ _Who are they?”_

_There are pictures floating in front of him. Of his family. His little weird, mismatched family that grated on his nerves and annoyed the shit out of him. That taught him that being a monster isn't the only way of living. “I don't remember,” he lies._

_The Witch sees through it and laughs. “So you don't know them?” Kuro shakes his head. Another image floats up, bigger than the rest. Of Lance. Of his smiling face, his brown skin and laughing eyes. His heart stutters. “You don't know him?” Kuro shakes his head. “So if you were to see his dead body, crumpled on the floor, you would do nothing? Feel nothing? Is that the truth?”_

“ _You won't touch him,” he snarls, bares his teeth. “You won't hurt Lance. I'll kill you,_ you bitch! _”_

_Haggar only laughs. Nails on a chalkboard, glass scraping on the floor. “Lance. He is who made you weak, I see. He will be the first then.”_

_And he was. The first to get to him, to pull him from the wires and intrusive hands. To yank Haggar's fingers from his mind, from his heart. He was the first. He is always the first to save him._

He's shaking like a leaf, sobs pushing their way past his teeth. “Come here,” Lance says, and Kuro does. Shoves his face in the crook of Lance's neck, smells his scent. He doesn't know the names of them, only that it makes him feel warm, feel safe. Feel like home.

“I don't want to kill you,” he whispers, like a secret. “I don't want to kill you ever.”

“I know you won't,” is the answer Lance gives. “I love you, you know.”

He remembers.

 

 


End file.
